


Right Where You Belong (Still working on a good title)

by Luv_Read_211



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Character Death, Drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24182728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luv_Read_211/pseuds/Luv_Read_211
Summary: Philip noticed something was wrong since the first mission, something more than finding out he was junkie. He thought it was the withdrawal that made his hands tremor when he shorted the circuit. Turns out, not only did he get a junkie as a host but said junkie was also a hidden omega. (Really sorry, I suck at writing summaries…)
Kudos: 10





	Right Where You Belong (Still working on a good title)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work >.< reaaaaaaally nervous. Some main points, will be following the timeline in the original t.v. show, mainly will be focused on Philip for now, I do not own Travelers and I'm not making money from this. Hope you guys like it!

A beep startles Philip awake.

_Hey, it’s Marcy. I’ll meet you at the T.E.L.L._

He curls up tighter into a fetal position, his stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself. He dry heaves, nothing but stomach acid comes up burning his throat. He coughs and reaches over to thumb open the cool clasp of the small metal case containing the “extra” from Ray. The historian stares listlessly at the contents inside the case, historically original Philip was said to have died of overdose from his first use of heroin. Clearly, this information is untrue. (Ah, the denial of disappointed parents). Or, maybe he’d just contracted a bad flu strain which is easily as likely that he’ll just sprout wings and fly away. 

The traveler glanced at the clock, it read 7:50. The hand-off was going to happen at 8:30, the historical death being a gunshot to the head. At least there isn’t going to be a mess if the consciousness transfer is successful. He blinked out of his thoughts and focused back onto the little bag containing heroin. No. Now is not the time, he grimaced. It’s weird to feel this host body crave for something that he has never tried before the transfer of his consciousness. He clicked the case close before slowly getting out of bed and heads over to the bathroom. After a quick shower his body felt a little bit closer to normal and the nausea has lessened to a manageable level. He decides to wait until after the anti-matter has been successfully dropped off. Then he’ll reassess his situation. Besides, it shouldn’t take more than 30 mins to an hour to complete the mission, just a simple hand-off.

.oOo.

It wasn’t a simple hand-off. He stares at the result of a successful suicide, the historical difference being death by pills. What was it 3185 said? “No plan survives contact with the past.” At least this death wasn’t his fault. For some reason, knowing that it wasn’t his fault doesn’t make him feel any better.

.oOo.

Philip’s skin felt too tight, and the nausea has returned full force. Sending the S.O.S took less than 15 mins. Now, he’s just trying to keep it together without letting the others know about his condition. He stood abruptly, dragging a clammy hand through his hair and tried to walk it out, looking for something to do.

“You all right?” Marcy asked, startling him. “You’re sweating.” She says, examining him with a calculating gaze, the doctor in her clearly being projected.

Philip tried unsuccessfully to brush off her concerns by saying, “I’d like it if there was no bomb in my house, but otherwise…” He hesitates as her eyes narrowed in suspicion feeling really uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He was extremely relieved when Trevor called for his help, “Philip. I think we are ready to do this.”

Philip nods and was about to head over to where Trevor was set up when a phone rang. He turns back to see Marcy pull out a cell phone. “You got a cell phone?” He asks in disbelief.

Marcy grimaces, “Yeah.”

“Who could be calling you?”

“It is,” Marcy takes a deep breath and exhales, “my social worker.” She takes the call. Philip relaxed further now that Marcy’s attention has been diverted.

Trevor motioned him to a spot at the table, handing him the necessary tools that were needed to complete the final steps that will give them more time. Philip adjusted his grip on the clamps and took a deep breath in hopes to calm the storm that was brewing in his gut. Out of nowhere, it seemed, a deep earthy scent with the undertones of something spicy filled his nose. The scent seemed to calm the nausea and loosened the unknowingly tense muscles in his shoulders and upper-back. His body shuddered in response, causing his hands to jump. A bright blinding flash threw Philip off his feet into darkness.

.oOo.

Philip opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He was no longer at Ops. He sat up quickly looking everywhere trying to figure out where he was. He was sitting on a bed, in what seemed to be a bedroom fit for a teenager. He caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror mounted on the door. He saw a younger healthier version of Philip with short hair, without any of the piercing staring back at him. Confused he stood up and walked over to the door blinking hard. That was when he overheard the murmurings.

“He’s just a late bloomer.” Said a feminine voice pleadingly. “And even if he doesn’t present as an Alpha, he’s still your son. We’ll fig-”

“No.” A masculine voice said firmly. “He’s going to be an alpha. It’s what I’ve been grooming him for. I’ll give him another week. If he hasn’t presented by then… I know a colleague that is the head of a boarding school that owes me a favor…”

Philip felt his chest squeeze painfully before taking a step back and...

His father barely glanced in his direction as he threw the bag onto his bed, “Use these. Always. Don’t tell anyone.” He turned to leave but stopped at the door, “I’ve talked with your mother, you’ll be going to an out of state college as soon as this is over.” He shuts the door as Philip opened the bag and saw beta sprays and suppressants. _(What the heck…?)_ His heart spasms…

He was back in his bed; it was night time again. He was on his side his back facing his mother. He felt feverish and his thoughts were muddled, his mother's cool hand brushes though his short hair. Her voice tearful, "Your father loves you, he just… doesn't know how to show it..." Philip shudders feeling his chest compress and....

He was blinking up at a young alpha, "Hey man, I'm Stephen. I got sent here because my parents want me to grow up out of my childishness, what about you?" Philip grimaced and ducked his head to run his fingers across his nose. Feels a piercing, "I'm Philip, and yeah... my dad isn't too happy that I presented as a… beta..." He feels his heart twinge...

Stephen hands him a joint, "Trust me Phil," Philip hesitates before taking it and putting it to his lips as Stephen grins and claps his shoulder, "You'll thank me later, Promise!" Philip feels his heart stutter as he takes a drag...

Stephen was wrapping and adjusting a rubber tube around Philip’s upper arm. Once it was set just the way he likes he holds out a filled syringe. “You’re all set,” Philip looked everywhere but at the syringe in his hand, he dragged a shaky hand through his hair, “I don’t know… Stephen this doesn’t seem like a good id-”

“Trust me Phil," Stephen says as he leans in for a kiss and presses the syringe into Philip’s hand, "You’ll thank me later. Promise.”

Philip swallows weakly and puts the syringe to the raised vein of his left arm, his chest tightens…

He's lying in bed facing Stephen who caresses his face, "Don't worry Phil I'll tell my mother soon. Trust me," a light kiss and an impish smile "You'll thank me later. Promise." Philip chuckles at the familiar phrase, then snuggles into Stephen’s neck and shoulder feeling his heart twinge...

Philip looks through unspilled tears, unsure what he was feeling. “I don’t understand Steph, I thought you said you were going to tell your mom about us…”

“I know what I said!” Stephen said sharply, causing Philip to flinch and the tears to fall. The alpha paced back and forth angrily before he took a deep breath in and lets it out slowly and crouched down to eye-level with Philip. “Look… Phil… My parents, they’re old-fashioned. I’m sorry for getting your hopes up, but… it’s over.” Philip feels a sharp stab in his chest, “My mom found me a female omega. And she’s pretty cute, her figure is just boyish enough that I think I can be normal, you know what I mean?” Philip doesn’t react, Stephen takes him by the shoulders and continues, “And besides, we can still be friends you know… I mean who else am I gonna shoot up with when I’m stressed?” Philip doesn’t answer just closes his eyes and drops his head down and…

He was focused on filling the syringe from the spoon. “Do we need to cut it?” Philip looks up to see Stephen looking at him. Philip fakes a grin and says “Nah.” He hands him the tainted syringe “Trust me Steph." He focuses back on filling the next syringe with the corrupted dose, pointedly ignoring the unopened wedding invitation lying inches away, "You’ll thank me later. Promise.” He takes the tubing from Stephen and wraps it around his left arm…

.oOo.

Philip gasped back into consciousness to the familiar ceiling of Ops and the worried faces of Marcy and Carly. Marcy, clearly relieved, feels for his pulse, “He’s back.” Philip gazes blankly up at the ceiling, trying to piece together what in the hell he just seen. His body covered in cold sweat.

“Speak up, Trevor.” Carly orders, bringing Philip back into the present.

“Well,” Trevor says slowly rubbing his fist against his forehead in frustration, “We didn’t add time. We lost it, and there’s not much left.”

Philip squeezes his eyes shut. Clearly reading what was being unsaid, he messed up the one chance they had to extend the battery-life and now they, along with thousands of people, would all be dead in less than 6 hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know when I'll update next.  
> Guess it'll depend on how will I can focus (-_-;)  
> Comments and suggestions are welcome!  
> Thanks for reading~!


End file.
